Sometimes, Things Just Aren't Meant To Be
by racefh853629
Summary: One moment could be the last straw.


A/N: My many, many thanks to texmex327 for beta-ing. :D I don't own Criminal Minds, CBS, or any other known entity. Dr. Marty Pino and his story is borrowed from CSI:NY, which I also do not own and have no affiliation with. I hope you guys all enjoy this story, and please review. :)

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Sometimes, Things Just Aren't Meant to be Understood

Reid sat quietly in the front seat of the SUV, staring out the window. As Hotch drove, Reid wasn't paying attention to the view outside or the snow that fell. Neither of them was really sure what to say at this moment, having just come from another custodial interview. Especially given that this one was slightly less what they had expected.

They had gotten a call saying that there was a serial killer who was willing to talk to them. He wanted to help them build profiles on people like him, even though he knew he would get nothing out of the deal.

But he wasn't what they had expected.

Dr. Marty Pino had been a regular guy. He had been a medical examiner for the city of New York, a guy who was well beloved by his colleagues. He and his wife had many friends and family members, all of whom thought that they were perfect for each other and that they were just a nice, normal couple.

Until something snapped.

"What're you thinking about?" Hotch finally asked, looking over at his silent companion as they arrived at their hotel.

"How someone goes from being a medical examiner to a serial killer," Reid replied, still staring out the window. "What could happen to someone to make them go that route?"

"You heard his story."

"But it still doesn't make sense. I mean, how does it happen?"

"It wasn't overnight."

Reid looked over at Hotch. "You don't get it either."

Hotch shrugged. "Sometimes, things just aren't meant to be understood."

Reid sighed. "It's not good enough." He got out of the car, making his way toward the building.

"Reid," Hotch said, getting out behind him and following him.

The thin profiler stopped, standing still as the frigid wind whipped the snow around him.

"What's really bugging you?" Hotch asked, walking up to Reid.

"Anyone is capable of doing anything to anyone," Reid said, looking at Hotch. "We see that every day on this job. We profile the worst of humanity, and sometimes, these are just normal people. One thing in their lives goes differently, and they wouldn't be an unsub. Dr. Pino had a good life- great job, great wife. If it wasn't for a gambling problem, he never would've gone down the path he did."

Hotch just watched as his young employee vented.

"If it wasn't for his daughter's accident, Norman Hill never would have killed his family and all those other motorists. If it wasn't for his father, Tobias Hankle never would've done the drugs that helped him fracture." Reid shook his head. "If just one thing changed…"

"It takes more than just a moment," Hotch said softly.

"But sometimes, a moment's all it takes to break that final straw," Reid replied, shaking his head. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna take a walk."

"Sure." Hotch watched stoically as Reid walked away, his face refusing to betray his internal struggle at seeing his young profiler so torn.

*~*~*~*

Reid arrived back at the room a few hours later, his thin, snow covered body trembling from the bitter cold he felt as he shrugged off his coat. Hotch looked up from the file he was reading as the door opened, just watching the younger man. Neither one said a word as Reid took off his shoes and dug into his go bag for a change of clothes.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked from his position in his bed as Reid headed toward the bathroom.

"I'll get back to you on that," Reid replied, closing the door behind him.

*~*~*~*

Hotch turned back to the file, the case of Dr. Marty Pino. The man was a well respected medical examiner who was well liked by his colleagues. Yet, none of them seemed to notice the gambling problem he had. Nor did they notice when his heroin overdose patients left the autopsy theater with less organs than they came in with.

Somewhere along the line, Marty had snapped, and started making human bodies into heroin.

As far as anyone could tell, Marty never used the product he created. He merely sold it on the street to help feed his other addiction. Then again, it was entirely possible that he was using as well.

Marty was fired from New York City's Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in 2007 after having been caught falsifying his own overtime sheets. By his own admission, he started murdering heroin addicts and harvesting their organs to continue to pay off his debts. He described to the profilers in detail how to make heroin out of human tissue, a conversation that had sickened both Hotch and Reid.

His body count was near the hundreds.

Hotch shook his head, closing the file. Had they been more prominent victims, Dr. Marty Pino never would've gotten as far as he did. But he was killing street bound drug addicts, people no one noticed nor cared to report missing. Hotch had seen many times that these cases either never get reported or that they get swept under the rug.

If it wasn't for his wife's death, Dr. Pino may never have been caught.

Hotch was having a hard time wrapping his own head around this case, particularly for the same reason that Reid was. He rubbed the scar on his chest, the place where the bullet had entered his body a few months ago, thinking about circumstances. Reid was right. Sometimes, it only took one thing to make someone snap.

*~*~*~*

Reid emerged from the shower dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He found Hotch sitting on the bed, staring at the closed file in his lap. The younger man said nothing, tucking his dirty dress clothes into a bag before climbing into his own bed.

"You're right," Hotch said, not looking away from the file. "This case is confusing."

"Yeah, I know," Reid replied, tucking his feet under him. "The one question Dr. Pino couldn't answer was what made him snap."

"Being fired." Hotch looked over. "All of a sudden, he has no income, but an incredible amount of debt. He already had been making heroin out of human organs. If you already have the lab…"

"Why not continue," Reid finished. "But it still doesn't make sense. He was a normal guy. He had a great wife, a great life… his friends would help him out of anything if he asked. All he had to do was ask for help."

"You and I both know it's not that easy," Hotch commented.

Reid shrugged. "He went over to Dr. Sid Hammerback's house every Sunday night for dinner. Went out for beers with Detective Danny Messer. Was good friends with Detective Dr. Sheldon Hawkes. He was well known and well liked by his friends. How did no one notice he was spiraling, and why didn't anyone reach out?"

"It's easy to hide behind personas."

Reid looked away rather than acknowledge how loaded that statement is. "It makes you wonder, though, how well do we really know the people around us?" he said after a minute.

"A good question," Hotch replied with a soft sigh, looking back at the closed file. "I guess the better question might be, are we meant to understand the people around us?"

Reid turned back to Hotch. "Another question without an answer."

Hotch half nodded, looking back at Reid.

"Of course, those questions don't help with the sleeping at night, though," Reid said, lying down. "I mean, how can anyone sleep so easily knowing that they could be one step away from turning into a serial killer? How can we sleep at night seeing what we see? I mean, the easy answer is we put them away, so that they don't hurt anyone else. But, it's not that easy."

"Nothing's ever easy," Hotch replied softly. "This job takes a toll on us, especially when we pull cases like this. It's hard not to take it home with you."

"Don't I know it," Reid muttered.

"We all let it get to us sometimes. We let it poison our minds and haunt our dreams, and most of the times, there's nothing we can do to stop it."

"Talking helps."

Hotch looked to the floor. "For some."

Reid shifted his position, looking at Hotch. "You never talked about the shooting."

"What's to say?" the unit chief said. "I walked in, he was waiting for me. And somehow, I managed to survive."

"Your neighbor called 911," Reid said.

Hotch shrugged, saying nothing.

Reid closed his eyes as he realized that Hotch wasn't going to talk further. Hotch almost never confided in anyone, let alone him. The fact that Hotch opened up even a little bit was astonishing. To Reid's knowledge, that had only happened once before, in a car almost two years ago. It was after another interview they had done together with a different serial killer, one who had other ideas for inviting the BAU to interview him.

Unlike Dr. Pino.

"Do you think someone could've stopped him?" Reid asked, opening his eyes.

"Huh?" Hotch asked, looking over.

"Dr. Pino. Do you think someone could've stopped him?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

Reid sighed softly, rolling onto his back. "Maybe if he just talked to someone about it…"

"It might not have helped."

Reid closed his eyes.

"Talking doesn't help everyone," Hotch continued. "Maybe his friends could have helped bail him out, but I don't know."

"Sometimes it's enough to stop an addiction," Reid commented, opening his eyes and looking at Hotch.

"Sometimes. But that also depends upon the person and their own strengths."

Reid nodded, looking back up at the ceiling.

"You're not him," Hotch said.

"Not anymore," Reid replied. "But, one step in a different direction a few years ago…"

Hotch blinked slowly, finally starting to understand what Reid had been thinking all afternoon.

"With our team, there are no secrets," Reid said. "We all pretend that we don't profile each other, but we do. We pick up on each other's moods, we know when something's changed in someone's life. We know almost everything about each other. We may not know the details, but we know something's changed."

Hotch nodded, rubbing his closed eyelids.

"You know, when we were in New Orleans, the first time we met Will… Emily confronted me," Reid confided. "She pinned me as not acting like myself. And she was right… I wasn't. But, at the time, given that she'd just gotten there, the only thing I could say to her was that she didn't know me."

"You were angry," Hotch said softly.

"More than that. And everyone in the BAU knew it. I don't know if everyone knew the details, but…"

"They knew the change."

"Right."

"None of us would have let you become a killer."

"I know." Reid sighed. "But, in another universe… if I hadn't been with people like you guys…"

"You think you would have ended up like Dr. Pino?"

"It's a possibility."

Hotch thought about that for a moment before saying, "In another universe, Tobias Hankle probably never would have tortured and drugged you."

Reid shrugged. "There's that."

"Reid, we could sit here all night and question everything," Hotch said. "But we can't change what's already happened. If you believe, there's a reason for the things that happen. But, even if you don't, questioning why doesn't always help. Sometimes…"

"Things just aren't meant to be understood," Reid finished. "I know. But that doesn't make it any better."

"I know," Hotch conceded.

Reid rolled over, his back facing Hotch. "One could argue that nothing could make it better. But that argument could go on all night, too."

Hotch shrugged, even though Reid couldn't see.

"Because what works for one person doesn't work for another."

Reid suddenly shot up in bed, a movement that caught Hotch off-guard and caused him to jump back slightly.

"Is that what you were trying to get at?" Reid asked.

"I wasn't trying to get at anything," Hotch said. "Just what was bothering you."

"Oh." Reid lay back down, this time facing Hotch.

"They all get to us sometimes."

"We wouldn't be human if they didn't. I know. I tell myself that every time I try to convince myself to sleep."

"Does it help?"

Reid shrugged. "Depends on how the day went," he said softly. "A day like today… probably."

"You haven't found what helps?" Hotch asked.

"A good book," Reid replied. "Some philosophy coursework. Basically, focusing on something that's neither right nor wrong helps."

Hotch nodded.

"Not that I find it boring. I actually find it quite fascinating. Kant, Sartre, Aristotle, Bentham, Socrates, and Plato are really some very interesting philosophers. Like, did you know that Bentham was actually one of the first advocates for equal rights for..."

"Reid," Hotch said tiredly.

"Right," Reid replied, smiling. "Too late at night for philosophical discussion."

Hotch chuckled softly.

"But, thinking about their philosophies makes it easier to get some sleep," Reid surmised.

"As long as there's something," Hotch responded, putting the folder on the nightstand before finally laying down in his own bed.

"Yeah."

Hotch closed his eyes.

"You know why I really like philosophy?" Reid asked.

Hotch opened his eyes and look over.

"Because it proves that sometimes, some things just aren't meant to be understood."

Hotch simply smiled as he turned out the light.

The End.


End file.
